


doctor, doctor

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor/Patient, Drama, Flirting, Injury, M/M, Medical, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: “Just lost control of the bike, that’s all,” Jack gives him a wry smile as he sinks down onto the examination bench. “The team were surprised they didn’t have to force me to see the doctor but I told them that it was the hot Spanish one,”Maverick feels his cheeks turn red at the Australian’s words, trying to ignore Valentino’s burning stare on his back.
Relationships: Jack Miller/Maverick Viñales
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	doctor, doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyzzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyzzle/gifts).



> I wrote this a while back because I really liked the idea of putting Maverick and Vale as doctors in the clinica mobile, it's somewhat canon compliant - Jack still rides in MotoGP but the timeline is slightly stewed. 
> 
> This is a birthday gift for L who is the biggest Jack/Mack hoe that I know, happy birthday b! <3

Some people’s parents want them to be doctors, lawyers or some other sensible, respectable profession. Maverick’s parents were no different. When he was younger, he wanted to ride motorcycles, but his father had insisted that he follow in his footsteps. He knows that he could have followed his father into emergency medicine, but the call of motorbikes was always something that interested Maverick so he was thrilled when he got the job working at the Clinica Mobile to assist the injured riders. He really does love his job, despite how chaotic it can be at times, the riders rolling up at all hours for massages or for minor injuries. However, there’s one particular rider who never seems to spend time anywhere else than the mobile facility when Maverick is on shift.

  
“What have you done this time, Jack?” Maverick sighs as the Australian limps into the cabin, his leathers torn and ripped from his impact with the gravel. He looks the same as he always does - the ever present Red Bull cap on backwards, the beard that he’s grown out at the beginning of the season neatly trimmed. Jack has been a regular visitor to the clinica mobile ever since he joined MotoGP two seasons ago, and Maverick has lost count of the amount of sprains, broken bones and bloody noses that he’s treated.   
  
“Just lost control of the bike, that’s all,” Jack gives him a wry smile as he sinks down onto the examination bench. “The team were surprised they didn’t have to force me to see the doctor but I told them that it was the hot Spanish one,”   
  
Maverick feels his cheeks turn red at the Australian’s words, trying to ignore Valentino’s burning stare on his back. Thankfully, his colleague remains silent, though Maverick is sure it’s because he would mention a certain Spanish rider that the Italian doctor has become enamoured with. “Right, well I’m going to need to examine you so you need to take the leathers off,”   
  
“Do you say that to all the other riders?” Jack all but purrs, his hand slowly drawing the zip of his leathers down.   
  
“I-” Maverick starts, knowing that his face is now bright red as he watches the Australian unzip his leathers, pulling down the material to show off his pale skin. It’s a sight that he’s seen numerous times before, Jack has a habit of being one of the riders who visits the clinica often, along with Marc who is similarly “accident-prone”, but this time, there’s a large tattoo on the right side of his ribcage of a silver fern.   
  
Jack follows his gaze and smirks. “You like it?”   
  
Maverick nods once as he busies himself, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Thought you weren’t a fan of tattoos though,”   
  
“Well, maybe I changed my mind,” Jack begins to tease as Maverick leans in to examine him, his fingers pushing against Jack’s ribs to feel for breaks. The Australian winces at the touch, cursing under his breath as Maverick pauses for a moment, moving back to a particular section that is starting to bruise.   
  
“Well, I don’t think you’ve broken any ribs,” Maverick says, his eyes flickering up at Jack. “Just badly bruised, I think you’ve gotten away with it again, Miller, is there anywhere else you are hurting that I need to look at?”   
  
“Well,” Jack’s smile grows wider and his eyes flicker downwards. “There is one area that you probably could check for damage, Doctor,”   
  
“I don’t think I can examine that-'' Maverick stutters out, feeling his cheeks turn pink at the Australian’s words. He busies himself by pulling his gloves away from his hands.   
  
“That’s a shame,” Jack replies, the smile still clinging to his face. “What if it really really hurt though?”   
  
“Jack, if you’re not injured, do you need to be here anymore?” Valentino cuts off the Australian with a raised eyebrow, pausing his examination of one of the Moto3 riders who had crashed in the practise session before. “Stop flirting with my staff,”   
  
Jack sighs heavily as he shrugs his ruined leathers back on. “You know what I call you, Vale? You’re Doctor Spoilsport,” He draws the zip back up and winks at Maverick. “But you’re Doctor Sexy,”   
  
“Jack-” Valentino snarls again, looking up again.   
  
Jack holds his hands up as though to protest his innocence. “Don’t worry, I’m going, I’m going,” He directs his attention back towards Maverick. “But I’ll see you later, Top Gun,” He leaves with another wink and Maverick wants nothing more than to disappear into the floor.   
  


* * *

  
Jack returns to the clinic at the next event during free practise four - but this time, he’s holding his arm close to his chest and the smirk that he usually wears is somewhat sheepish. He has slipped his leathers down around his waist, the sleeves hanging down around his legs, his pale chest once again on display. However, as he sinks down onto the bench, he winces slightly as his arm is jostled.   
  
“What have you done this time, Jack?” Maverick asks, pulling out a fresh pair of gloves, only to stop as Jack slowly lowers his other arm to show off the damage to his injured one. “Jesus christ, that’s-”   
  
“Had a highside,” Jack murmurs through gritted teeth. “Not sure if I’ve hurt something in my shoulder or-”   
  
“It’s swelling up,” Maverick replies, probing the tender area as gently as he can. “Does it hurt to move it? Is there stiffness in it?”   
  
Jack nods imperceptibly. “It really fucking hurts,”   
  
Maverick hums under his breath. “I can give you something for the pain,”   
  
Jack is silent as Maverick busies himself preparing the injection, and he only winces slightly as the needle is expertedly inserted into his skin, Maverick saying nothing as he pulls the empty needle out and replaces the injection site with a cotton pad to catch the small drops of blood that erupt from the pale skin. Jack immediately begins to relax under the effects of the painkiller, slouching slightly against the bench. “I felt a crack, I think- it will be okay though, right?”   
  
“We will need to give you an x-ray to be sure,” Maverick mutters. “You know the drill,” He places a small container on the bench next to Jack. “All jewellery needs to come off, and if you got any new piercings, they need to be removed,”   
  
The smirk finds its way back onto Jack’s face. “Well, now you’re giving me ideas, doc-”   
  
Maverick can feel the blush decorate his cheeks again as he slides the container closer to the Australian. “Just put anything metal in here and let me know when you’re done so we can get you x-rayed as quickly as possible,” He murmurs out as he steps away, drawing the curtain around Jack’s bench to give him some privacy.   
  


* * *

  
“It’s definitely broken,” Valentino says, holding the x-ray up to examine it carefully. “He’s probably going to need a plate inserted in there to hold the bone together,”   
  
Maverick worries his lip. “He’s not going to be happy about this, is he?”   
  
“When is any rider happy when we tell them that they can’t race? Last time I had to tell Lorenzo that he couldn’t race, he threw a massive temper tantrum about it,”   
  
Maverick sighs heavily, glancing at the clear break on the x-ray. “Guess I’ll tell him then, he’s going to have to go to hospital to determine an outcome anyway,” He leaves the dark room and walks over to Jack who is still dressed in his leathers, looking anxious.   
  
“So what is the verdict, gorgeous?” Jack asks with a smile.   
  
“You’ve broken your collarbone,” Maverick replies, keeping his tone soft and even. He holds out the x-ray, indicating the break on the image. “Dr Rossi and I are of the opinion that you will probably need surgery to fix the issue,”   
  
The smile immediately drops from Jack’s face. “So, I won’t be able to race this weekend?”   
  
“We won’t know without further tests to determine how bad the damage is to your collarbone, but right now, you are not fit enough to race,”   
  
Jack swears under his breath. “But isn’t there something like an injection I can take for the race or something? I could have the surgery as soon as the race is over, we have a two week break after this-”   
  
“Jack,” Maverick tries to placate the Australian. “You know how this works. I can’t let you on the bike for your own safety and for others, you have to be checked over before we can clear you to get back on your bike,”   
  
“Fine,” Jack murmurs out, his voice tight. “Let’s run the damn tests,”   
  
Maverick sighs heavily as he watches the Australian wrench himself off the medical bench and limp over to the door. He glances down at the fallen x-ray again and wonders why on earth MotoGP riders are the most stubborn people on the planet. He’s soon called away to attend more minor injuries - a mechanic with a laceration to his thumb, another young Moto3 rider who ends up in the gravel that he doesn’t notice the message sent from the hospital informing him that Jack is indeed having the surgery and will miss the race. Maverick watches the build up to the race coverage on the flatscreen in the clinic the next day, the camera focuses on Jack’s bike sitting in the garage silently shining and he has to look away.   
  


* * *

  
“Did you miss me gorgeous?” Maverick stiffens at the familiar lilt of Jack’s Australian accent. He knew that Jack’s surgery had gone well and that he had been rehabilitating at one of his houses in Europe in preparation, undergoing extensive physiotherapy on his shoulder. Maverick stops at the sight of the Australian rider - he’s shirtless, the expanse of pale skin only broken up by the extensive bruising on his left shoulder, the puckered, pink scars standing out against the lightly freckled skin.   
  
“I’ve passed my fitness check,” Jack wiggles his eyebrows before he throws a dirty look towards Valentino. “With no thanks to this asshole, I ache in places that I didn’t know existed - maybe you could give me a massage?”   
  
Maverick opens his mouth and closes it again. “I’m not a physiotherapist, Jack, but I’m sure I can check if one of them is available-”   
  
“Nah,” Jack shakes his head as he slowly pulls the Red Bull branded t-shirt back on, hiding his injury from view. “None of them are as hot as you are,”   
  
Maverick feels his face burn. “Well, thank you, but I’m not a physiotherapist-”   
  
“That’s a shame, I’m sure you have magical hands,” Jack winks at him.   
  
“Miller, you bitched and moaned at me for the last forty minutes to clear you for the race weekend, don’t you have some data to be looking over or something?” Valentino cuts in, looking unimpressed.   
  
“You’re such a cockblock, Dr Rossi,” Jack says, rolling his eyes for a moment before his gaze flickers back over to Maverick, the smile still clinging to the corners of his lips.   
  
“I’ll tell the surgeons to surgically remove yours if you don’t get out of my clinic now,” Valentino murmurs back.   
  
Jack huffs again. “So touchy, Doctor,” However, he does as he is told, but not before blowing a kiss at Maverick, the door slamming shut behind him.   
  
“I’m so sorry,” Maverick blurts out, the blush still staining his cheeks.   
  
Valentino sighs. “I’m used to it - they all try and push their luck sometimes. He’s just taken a particular shine to you, do you know how much he complained that I was the one doing his fitness test?”   
  
“I can imagine,” Maverick murmurs. He glances down at the bench and notices a familiar grey Red Bull cap sitting there. “Is that Jack’s hat?”   
  
Valentino glances down at the cap. “He’s always leaving things behind, I am sure he has loads of them back to his motorhome,”   
  
Maverick worries his lip, glancing down at the cap. “Maybe I should return it? He might get into trouble with his sponsors if he doesn’t have it-”   
  
Valentino sighs heavily. “Fine, but hurry up, it’s not our job to chase down riders and give them back their clothing - and take your beeper in case I need you,”   
  
Maverick agrees, grabbing the cap and his beeper as he sets off into the paddock. However, he soon realises his mistake - although he knows which team Jack races for, he’s not sure which motorhome belongs to the Australian. He moves towards the familiar bright red of Ducati hospitality, knowing that he’s certain to at least find someone who probably knows where Jack is. He glances around, worrying his lip, the cap still caught between his fingers when he’s suddenly bowled over by someone who knocks him to the ground.   
  
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” A familiar French accent rings out and Maverick glances up into hazel eyes. “Doctor Viñales? What are you doing here?” Fabio asks, wide eyed.   
  
“I was looking for Jack’s motorhome, to return this,” Maverick swipes up the fallen cap.   
  
“Oh, I know where that is!” Fabio exclaims. “I’ll show you!” He holds out a hand for Maverick to take. The Spaniard takes the proffered hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.   
  
“Thank you,” Maverick says with a small smile.   
  
“Are you cheating on me now, Top Gun?” The Australian lilt curls through the air and Maverick turns his head to see Jack glancing at the pair with folded arms, his eyes on their entwined hands. “I get it, Fabio is a cute twink and all, but I’ve got more experience, you know,”   
  
Maverick drops Fabio’s hand like a stone. “I came to return this,” He stutters out, holding out the cap. “You left it at the medical centre,”   
  
“Valentino let you out? I was under the impression that he kept you chained in there - not that I would blame him,” Jack replies with a flirtatious smile.   
  
“I gotta go-” Fabio cuts in, his face red. “I have to go and talk to my engineers-”   
  
Jack barely pays the blonde any attention as he all but stalks off in the opposite direction as fast as he can. Maverick can feel Jack’s eyes on him. “Like I ever have any time to leave the clinic when you’re constantly throwing yourself off your bike-”   
  
Jack laughs. “Who knew you have a sense of humour?”   
  
“Well, somebody has to be around to make sure that you are all patched up, don’t they?” Maverick says, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you want Valentino to be the one popping your shoulder back in after you’ve dislocated it,”   
  
“You’re right,” Jack says, wincing slightly. “I’d much rather have you do it,”   
  
Maverick is about to respond when the beeper clipped onto his side sounds out, shrill and alarming. He swears under his breath, pushing the hat into Jack’s hands. “I’m sorry, this is an emergency, I have to go-”   
  
But Jack’s fingers grab onto his own, holding him there for a minute. “Valentino will be fine on his own for a bit, Mack, relax,”   
  
“Jack, please, I need to go-” Maverick murmurs out, wrenching his hands away. He doesn’t see the disappointed expression on the Australian’s face as he takes off in the opposite direction towards the clinic, trying to ignore the warm tingling in his hands where Jack had touched him.   
  
The emergency turns out to be one of the young Italians - Migno - who has managed to break his leg during the free practise session, lying on one of the benches screaming at the top of his lungs as Valentino tries to placate him. Maverick immediately tries to help his colleague diffuse the situation and after Migno is administered a painkiller injection and his leg is wrapped up in preparation for the ambulance, things begin to calm down in the clinic.   
  
Jack doesn’t return for the rest of the weekend and Maverick finds himself missing the Australian.   
  


* * *

  
Jack is strangely absent from the clinic at the next race. Although this isn’t usual, some riders rarely visit the medical centre, and Jack doesn’t fall off his bike at all during any of the practise sessions. However, the strangest thing is that the Australian manages to schedule his massage when Maverick is on his break. The only reason that Maverick is even aware of it, is because Valentino mentions it during one of their quiet periods, whilst they’re going through their inventory.   
  
“What’s going on with you and Miller?”   
  
Maverick glances up from the vials of codeine. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“Don’t play dumb with me, Viñales. You know what I’m talking about. He hasn’t miraculously managed to pull a muscle and come to medical this weekend, he even sneaked in to get a massage when you were on your lunch break, doing your reports,”   
  
Maverick raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know why, you know what riders are like, they get upset over the tiniest things, like when you called Franky darling by mistake and Marc got pissed off at you-”   
  
“Stop changing the subject,” Valentino’s cheeks are slightly pink at the mention of Marc. “What did you do to get into his bad books?”   
  
“Nothing,” Maverick murmurs out a little too quickly. “Just drop it, okay?”   
  
Valentino remains silent for now, but Maverick knows that the matter is not simply resolved by ignorance. He makes a note to catch Jack next time that he visits the clinic to ask him what the problem is.   
  
However, Jack never makes a visit to the clinic for the rest of the race weekend. Maverick finds his eyes flickering over towards the flatscreen on the wall and he finally catches a glimpse of Jack sitting on his bike on the grid. The Australian looks as calm and collected as he always does, his sunglasses hiding his eyes as he sips slowly on his drink, bobbing his head slightly to the music on his headphones. Maverick feels Valentino’s gaze on him and he wrenches his eyes away from the screen, blush still staining his cheeks.   
  
Everything goes to shit twenty minutes into the race when Jack is catapulted from his bike as he fights against Rins and Fabio for the position. It happens too quickly for Maverick to digest - one moment, the cameras are focusing on the battle between them for the podium positions, the next moment, Jack’s bike is flying through the air launching him into the gravel trap. Maverick worries at a hangnail as he watches the action unfold on the screen in front of him, the metallic, copper tang of blood suddenly filling his mouth, but he doesn’t care. He cannot rip his eyes away from the screen where the bike has finally stopped, destroyed by the impact, but he watches Jack carefully. The rider sits up, clearly winded from the impact but he doesn’t pull himself to his feet. Maverick tries to ignore the thud of his heart at the sight of the Australian sitting in the gravel.   
  


* * *

  
Jack is immediately brought to the medical centre. He’s quiet and pale, and immediately Valentino and Maverick jump into action. “Jack? Where is the pain?”   
  
“My shoulder is killing me, the one that I had the surgery on - and my wrist is killing me,” The Australian murmurs between gritted teeth. He hisses in pain as Maverick slowly draws the zip of his leathers down, easing out the protective padding. Jack closes his eyes and remains silent as Maverick eases the sleeves of his leathers down and curses under his breath. “Didn’t imagine this was how you’d take my clothes off, Doc,” He murmurs.   
  
“It’s swollen again,” Maverick whispers to Valentino. “Do you reckon that he’s broken the plate holding the bone together?”   
  
Valentino nods gravelly as Maverick gently presses down on Jack’s shoulder and the Australian yelps at the contact, shrinking away from the Spaniard. “Fuck me, fuck-” He curses, biting down on his lip. Maverick is about to ask for a needle full of painkiller but Valentino is already pressing one into his gloved hand wordlessly.   
  
“Jack, we’re gonna reduce the pain okay?” Maverick says in a gentle voice but Jack doesn’t respond, barely flinching when Maverick administers the painkiller. It takes a few minutes for it to take effect, but Jack’s shoulders soon slacken under its effects, the pain slowly being sucked from his body. “Jack,” Maverick tries again, his hands moving to cup the younger man’s face. “Jack, you need to stay with me for a bit longer okay? You said your wrist hurt? Which one?”   
  
“My left one,” Jack bites out, his eyes still closed.   
  
Maverick pulls his hands away and slowly rolls up the sleeve of Jack’s leather to examine the wrist which looks swollen and is already beginning to bruise from the impact. We won’t be able to tell without x-rays, but it’s either a break or a severe sprain,” He says softly. “Anywhere else in pain?”   
  
Jack hums under his breath. “Mmm, not anymore, you gave me that good stuff huh?”   
  
“Yeah, I gave you the good stuff but you’re going to need to go to hospital to get checked out, we need to definitely check out your collarbone and see if there’s further damage-” Maverick says quietly.   
  
Jack shakes his head. “No, no, don’t want to go to hospital, I have a race to get to, doc. Can’t you just wrap it up? It’ll be fine,”   
  
“We can’t do that, I’m afraid, Jack,” Maverick continues. “You’ve potentially broken your collarbone again and your wrist, there’s no way you’re getting back on your bike,”   
  
“You’re lucky you’re so hot,” Jack murmurs out, his eyes flickering open as he takes in Maverick - they’re glassy and unfocused, the drug is clearly beginning to take effect. “Like really fucking hot,” He continues with a wry smile. “But you don’t like it when I flirt with you,”   
  
“Jack,” Maverick begins, knowing that he’s blushing again at the Australian’s words. “I don’t think-”   
  
“I was jealous, you know?” Jack slurs. “The other race weekend when I saw you and Fabio holding hands? I was jealous and I thought that you liked him better than you liked me-”   
  
“Jack, I don’t like anyone more than anyone else, I promise you that,” Maverick says softly, aware of Valentino’s blue eyes burning into him. “There’s nothing going on with Fabio and I,”   
  
Jack beams widely. “That’s good - I mean, it isn’t good if you like him... but it is good because I like you,”   
  
Maverick wants nothing more than to sink into the floor in front of him. He’s used to drugged up riders having the occasional flirt - Jorge had informed Valentino that he had pretty eyes when they’d drugged him up after his incident in Assen a few years ago. But this is different - this is Jack talking about what he really feels.   
  
“Do you like Fabio?” Jack asks, cocking his head slightly. “I mean, I get it if you do, he’s pretty hot isn’t he? Don’t you want to date him?”   
  
“I like Fabio,” Maverick begins, watching as Jack’s face falls. “But not like that, he’s a rider who I have to take care of, like the rest of you. It would be a conflict of interest if I were to date him,”   
  
Jack frowns at Maverick’s words. “Conflict?”   
  
“Yeah,” Maverick says quietly. “I wouldn’t be able to treat him anymore,”   
  
“So if I wanted to date you, I would have to get Vale to treat me?”   
  
Maverick nods once and the smile reappears on Jack’s face. “I can live with that,” He declares as his hand reaches out to fist into Maverick’s shirt and he pulls the Spaniard into a kiss. It’s relatively tame, their lips barely brushing against each other - Maverick noticing how warm and chapped Jack’s lips are against his own, the Australian’s good wrist fisted tightly into his white shirt. Jack gently whines against his lips and Maverick immediately snaps out of the thoughts and wrenches himself away, staring back at Jack with wide eyes.   
  
“Jack, we can’t-” He begins.   
  
“I’ll take over,” Valentino cuts in quietly. “Before he ends up humping you whilst he’s high off painkillers and you get your medical licence taken away,” The Italian continues, immediately moving to take over. Maverick backs away slowly, but his gaze locks with Jack’s - brown eyes staring into glassy hazel ones before he leaves the clinic, his head spinning.   
  


* * *

  
Jack misses the next race. He has to get the metal plate in his shoulder replaced again - but thankfully, his wrist is just badly sprained. Valentino declares him unfit for the next round in Silverstone, despite his protests that he is fine. They end up having an uneventful weekend, with very few injuries and they’re able to catch up on much of their outstanding paperwork in silence, the race going on in the background. However, Jack returns at the next round in Italy but Valentino again handles the fitness check, which the Australian passes with flying colours, the summer break having done wonders for the healing process. Maverick feels bad for hiding out in the back room filing some of his paperwork but he can’t bring himself to see the Australian. He manages to evade Jack all weekend, despite his regular visits to the clinic for his physiotherapy appointments and his check ups. Valentino watches him, as though judging his colleague for his decision, but he says nothing. They’ve not spoken about the incident yet, but Maverick can tell that the older doctor is itching to ask him about it.   
  
However, in Aragon, Valentino finally breaks after Jack leaves the clinic for another routine check up on his shoulder. “Maverick, this has to stop, you can’t avoid him for the rest of your lives,”   
  
“I’m not avoiding him,” Maverick murmurs, attempting to look busy with the inventory that he is trying to complete.   
  
Valentino rolls his eyes. “Look, he kissed you whilst he was out of it. He’s probably even more embarrassed than you are. You’ve asked me about his progress about fifty times over the past three weeks, just go and talk to him,”   
  
“But-”   
  
“Maverick,” Valentino says quietly. “Jack likes you, and from your behaviour, I can tell that the feeling is mutual. Just go and talk to him about it,”   
  
“But what about the conflict of interest?” Maverick blurts out, worrying his lip.   
  
Valentino snorts. “I already completed the forms and the declaration that I will take over his medical care, I submitted it the day that he decided to snog you under the influence,” He says with a grin, ignoring the blush on Maverick’s cheeks. “Now go and talk to him, go and kiss him when he can actually remember it,”   
  
Maverick opens his mouth to retort but he can’t bring himself to say anything. He pulls off his stethoscope wordlessly and turns to leave the room. However, as he opens the door, he turns back towards his colleague. “I did the same for Marc at the beginning of the season,” He smiles, watching Valentino’s mouth drop open. “So if you’re interested in fixing your own love life, feel free,” He leaves a silent Valentino behind and sets out towards Jack’s motorhome.   
  
This time, it’s easier to find - though he shifts from foot to foot as he stands on the doorstep, wondering what to say.   
  
“Dr Viñales?” The familiar lilt of Jack’s Australian accent cuts through his thoughts and he glances up to see the taller rider standing in the door frame with a look of confusion pasted on his face. “What are you doing here, doc?”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Maverick blurts out. “I’ve been avoiding you for the past few weeks, and I know you probably thought that it was your fault, but it wasn’t - I was just afraid of what would happen the next time I saw you and-”   
  
“Ask me if I regretted it,” Jack cuts in, his voice quiet and calm.   
  
“What?”   
  
“I didn’t regret it,” Jack continues quietly. “I’m sorry for kissing you whilst I was drugged up, but everything I said, everything I did, I wanted to do that - I’ve been wanting to do that for such a long time, but I never thought you were interested, you never flirted back-” He pauses. “But it’s okay, I’ll deal with that, I understand that your career is important and that you don’t like me in that way-”   
  
“But I do,” Maverick interrupts.   
  
“What?” Jack murmurs out, eyes wide.   
  
“I do like you,” Maverick repeats, a small smile curling on his lips. “I do want something more,” He pauses, licking his lips. “Valentino has agreed to become your doctor and he’s already completed conflict of interest forms-” He’s cut off by Jack’s lips sealing against his own, but this time is different - Jack’s lips feel the same as they did the last time, they’re warm and slightly chapped, but Jack’s hands cradle his face, his thumb stroking against Maverick’s cheek as they kiss slowly, tentatively. Jack’s tongue swipes out to slide against the crease of Maverick’s lips and the Spaniard gasps as Jack’s warm, wet tongue invades his mouth. He tastes of toothpaste and something else that Maverick can’t place, his thumb still tracing circles over Maverick’s cheek as their tongues brush up against one another, exploring every inch of the other’s mouth. Jack eventually pulls away, which elicits a light groan from Maverick at the loss of contact, and the Australian smiles at him with swollen lips.   
  
“That kiss was much better than the last one, Mack,”   
  
Maverick finds himself smiling back. “There’s plenty more where that came from,”   
  
He leans in for another kiss. 


End file.
